made alot
 x2
Made a lot of cheese, people say I changed
Made a lot of cheese, people say I changed
Made a lot of cheese, people  say I changed
But if you thinking that you never knew me from the gate man
Ay but fuck it then
Cause I rather ride Bubble Benz and push a bucket break, scrubbing paint
Bubbling up again, on my hood
Gotta get it while the gettin good
A chemist with the pimpin mix the leather with the cherry wood
If you could you should
Slam doors on hoes
I 5th wheel my trunk while white-wallin my vogues
I tight walk on these foes just to flex
Ain't no sense in stepping out if I can't never look my best
Damn, don’t stress my bankroll
Just know I keep my bank swoll
Ain’t no place I can’t go, never trick on no stank ho
It was like that back when I was in my mama’s stomach
A player slid up out the womb and hit the ground running
Never stumbling always gunning like a popped Glock
Keep a hater boxed out
So I could rebound and ball for the top spot
All the same I’m a staple in the game
Ain't never been no lame
That’s why I find it strange when I
Who the fuck are you
Texting me at 1:46 in the evening
Meant the morning, after midnight
While I’m yawning, you were sleeping
4 door Chevy roll I’m out'chea creeping
Slamming doors in
Heavy things but I want some more
With playa pose, Roll up on hoes
That say they knew me from high-school
Maybe community college, claim they wanna do some thangs
But I can do without it
My mama name "Such and such" and we go back like baby powder
Baby I doubt it, it’s hard to swallow
You wanna lay up, I want a dollar
For the machine, I’m kinda thirsty
A little parched, she wanna ride, no you cannot
She say I’m mean I say just the hoes
And dumb niggas, kinda like you
Them B's and doe's
Reject request on Facebook
Daily duckin lames
All you know is my patna; 'em then my name
Plus you heard that I
You probably see me in the street but nigga you dont know me
Big Sant bitch, motherfucking OG
From the Sip get a grip, wanna visit take a trip
Ain’t a nigga dead or alive that can say that I done flipped
Im from the land of the cheese, home of the slave
Don’t confuse me with no lame
Cause that’s what just I ain’t
Alumni forever put that on the nigga next to me
Started out writing rhymes ended up writing a legacy
They hollerin there he go again
What's his name, where his folk?
Call him Kurt, call him KRIT?
Fuck that nigga I ain’t sure
He got beats, heard him flow
Like a couple years ago
He alright, kinda tight
Shawty like him on the low
There he go, too much soul
I wouldn’t buy it out the store
Plus I saw him in the club
One who hollered at my ho
Just because he got some dough
From a deal he think he ill
I bet thats how that motherfucka feel
And on the real I think he changed